


every train i board just takes me back to you

by parkers



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Agender Character, Future Fic, Other, agender akashi !!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 08:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3803401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkers/pseuds/parkers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>maybe that's why i have more tickets in my hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	every train i board just takes me back to you

Akashi wakes up with Midorima around them.

The curtains block most of the sun, but a bit of pale light sneaks in and lights up the lower left corner of the bed, where Akashi spies a discarded, dark jacket. They remember that it was the same one that Midorima wore to the theatre last night.

The bed is a messy tangle of limbs and blankets, a garden of misplaced pillows, and a place for Midorima, but not for Akashi.

Akashi thinks back to the previous night and wonders how they ended up here, after all their efforts to remain unattached.

They faintly remember leaning wearily on Midorima on the ride back and a kiss at the doorstep.

That was all.

It’s not the development they wanted, nor what they expected, but it is what it is.

This is not scary. No, it is not.

They yawn, and their eyes fall on the neat row of backup lucky items on Midorima’s desk among the careful arrangements of books and papers. Same as ever.

The corner of their mouth quirks up before they can stop themself. Upon realizing this action, they exhale resignedly and wipe their smile away.

They have to admit that they’re a little unnerved at their quick heartbeat, the way their body burns where it touches Midorima’s, the way their cheeks are warm. After all, they can’t pretend to be calm and cold anymore, not with this reaction.

From those junior high years where the two of them suddenly split apart upon the arrival of Akashi’s “other” self, from their high school years of turning Midorima down over and over again – from those years until now, Akashi has always been the harder one, the colder one, the absolute one, but now it looks like Midorima’s the steadier one, the one that gently guides Akashi around the ballroom floor of their delicate relationship.

Akashi yawns again. They shift a little, being careful not to disturb the loose arrangements of Midorima’s arms and legs around their body. Through cautious maneuvering, they end up looking up into his sleeping face.

They watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his proud expression is nowhere to be seen in his slumber.

Without his glasses, he looks different. In what way, Akashi does not know.

They move their hand towards his face, then stop themself.

Maybe this is the change they need.

Then again, maybe it’s not.

It was easier, they think, back when they could pretend that they didn’t care about Midorima’s shining eyes, nor the defeated way his hand fell to his side. It did grow a little harder year after year, but it was still easier than this.

Running away was easy; stopping and looking back while they waited was harder.

 

It was just a few months ago when they ran into Midorima again after years, at the subway. They were already in the train, standing near the door and breezing through a book, when Midorima walked in.

Their eyes met, and Akashi froze.

Midorima flinched and stammered out a greeting, while Akashi just stared, blankly and uncomprehendingly.

Really, they thought, they thought they left him behind, with the rest of their painful past, but here Midorima Shintarou was, asking Akashi where they were going and how they were doing and just _maybe_ if they would consider going out to a nearby coffee shop some day, whenever it was convenient, with him, he’d heard good things about it.

Somehow, Akashi found themself nodding with a smile, a real one, and agreeing.

They chat on the train, about the years they've missed.

Akashi almost missed their stop.

After their stay at the coffee shop together, Midorima suggested that Akashi come with him to listen to his cousin’s piano concert; after that, it was a bookstore; after _that_ , they followed him to a history museum, and just last night, Akashi and Midorima watched a musical together.

It wasn’t like Akashi was hanging onto him; Midorima just – _kept_ inviting them to places, and Akashi, despite themself, was caught back in the confusing feelings that trapped them when they were younger.

 

Why does Midorima still want them, Akashi wonders, after all they did to push him away, after all they did to turn away from him to focus only on victory. Really, they don’t deserve Midorima’s honest, patient, proud love, they think quietly to themself.

The truth is a little painful, but no less painful than every other truth Akashi’s suffered throughout their lifetime.

Akashi wonders why there are tears pushing to the front of their eyes. They’re not allowed to cry.

They are absolute; they must be absolute, but that was years ago.

Their hands tighten on the bedsheets, and they curl closer around themselves.

There’s something broken about the failure of a person like them, they think. There’s something horribly wrong about them.

They don’t deserve whatever this relationship is.

 

“Seijuurou?”

Akashi starts and jerks their head up to meet Midorima’s bleary eyes.

“Shintaro,” they respond, as composedly as they can.

Midorima sleepily reaches his hand out to brush tears, ones that Akashi hadn’t even noticed, away. “Don’t cry,” he mumbles.

“I wasn’t,” Akashi responds stiffly, then winces at their tone of voice. They didn’t mean to sound angry. “I mean – I just –” They hastily shut their mouth. They’ve already said too much, done too much.

Midorima opens his mouth to respond, then closes it. His hand hesitantly rests on Akashi’s hair. “Can I –”

“Yeah,” Akashi says, without thinking.

They fall into silence. Akashi stares at Midorima’s skin, his bare chest, and tries to figure out how to express their feelings.

“I would just like you to know,” they start hesitantly, “that I’m – I’m sorry for everything I did.” They clear their throat. “I don’t know –” Their voice breaks, and they look away.

Midorima reaches out again, this time resting his hand on Akashi’s wrist. Akashi can feel him waiting for a rejection but they don’t have one, not this time.

They know that he can feel the nervous singing of their heartbeat,

“It’s okay; I’ll – I’ll just stay here for you,” Midorima says, all in a rush. He’s as honest as usual.

Akashi’s heart aches to hear him say that.

“Whatever you need, I’ll try my best to help with. I – I just –”

“You don’t have to do anything more,” Akashi interrupts, quietly. Their hands shake, to their frustration, so they curl them into fists.

“I want to do more.” Midorima shuffles closer, pressing a shaky, but eager kiss above Akashi’s right eye. “I – I love you,” he confesses, his voice trembling. “I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

Akashi can feel themself shaking.

“Thank you,” they breathe, and, for the first time in years, they let themself cry. “Thank you. I – I – Thank you.”

Akashi cries with Midorima around them, and that is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> bruhh.. i don't even know if i got akashi's character down right but w/e  
> this . is unexpected. i never thought i'd fall into akamido but here we are.. .....  
> hit me up @ [my tumblr](http://shinyahiragies.tumblr.com)  
> thanks for reading!!


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